


Sarah Vs. The Pink Slip

by Principia, Wonderlandleighleigh



Series: Sarah [8]
Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: AU, Chuck AU, F/M, Gen, Rule 63, Season/Series 02 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Principia/pseuds/Principia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderlandleighleigh/pseuds/Wonderlandleighleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pics from Zachary Levi Fan and Fanpop.</p></blockquote>





	Sarah Vs. The Pink Slip

**Sarah Vs. The Pink Slip**

_Chuck is curled up in a disheveled heap on the sofa of an old efficiency in Prague, when he hears the sound of someone working to jimmy the lock to his door._

_He knows he should to muster the energy to reach for his gun, a knife, a shoe, **anything** with which to defend himself, but can’t summon the wherewithal to care._

_He hasn’t cared about much since Sarah took him by the hand and led him to the to the Praha hla… the Praha… the train station’s café so she could tell him she wasn’t coming with him._

_Chuck fumbles for the cheap local phone stashed under his pillow to call… someone. He doesn’t know who. Who the hell would even know to look for him here?_

_After another few moments of shuffling and scraping, there’s a loud thump and the door opens with a loud crack -- and a familiar grunt._

**Casey:** Bartowski. Real nice place you got here.

_**Great.** No, not great. **Perfect.** _

**Casey:** Seems it’s just not possible to have more than one of you _not_ AWOL at a time.

_Chuck groans loudly and lets his phone drop to the surface of the couch as he tucks himself back under his thin blanket._

**Chuck:** *still bleary and obviously green around the gills* She said she didn't want me, Casey.

**Casey:** Did the words "I don't want you, Charles," or whatever she calls you when you two are makin’ cow eyes at each other, actually come out of her mouth?

**Chuck:** *trying to remember, not working so well*

__As a matter of fact, no, they didn’t -– Sarah wanted to explain her decision to Chuck, but the moment the word “no” came out of her mouth, Chuck shut down and took off, leaving Sarah to sit alone in the café and wonder whether this was all going to be worth it in the end, because it **wasn't** right now. _ _

__Casey reaches the couch in a few strides, and starts helping Chuck to sit up and then stand, whether he likes it or not._ _

**Casey:** Jesus, Bartowski, you smell like a distillery.

__Chuck looks pained for a moment, then gets sick all over Casey’s shoes._ _

**Casey:** *as he marches Chuck to the efficiency’s tiny bathroom* Of __course__.

**Chuck:** *starts to try to say "sorry"*

**Casey:** No, don't, you'll just make yourself puke again. I'll add it to your therapy bill.

**Chuck:** Ther'py?

**Casey:** *starts the shower, ice-cold, and shoves Chuck into it, blanket and all*

**Chuck:** AH! AH! AH! AH!

**Casey:** *pulls Chuck back towards him so Chuck's head is out from under the showerhead* Better?

**Chuck:** NO! WORSE!

__At the shouting, a piercing pain washes up and down Chuck’s body, coming back to rest solidly in the middle of his forehead. He winces, and teeters on his feet, but Casey keeps him upright._ _

**Casey:** *philosophical* Well, at least my shoes are clean now.

**Chuck:** Ugh. Hate you.

**Casey:** Yeah, yeah, I "hate" you too. Let's get you out of this crap and into some clean everything.

__Casey leads Chuck back out into the living room, such as it is._ _

**Casey:** I brought ya some gear.

**Chuck:** *looks at Casey in confusion*

**Casey:** What, you think my stuff'd fit you? Not hardly.

**Chuck:** Be like a kid wearin' my dad's clothes...

**Casey:** It'd be better than smelling like you've been swimming in the river, but being dressed like some kinda escapee might make gettin' you out of here unnoticed a little _difficult_.

**Chuck:** Where we goin’?

**Casey:** For right now? I dunno. But we need to be back in Burbank or at least DC before someone notices you haven't come back from your impromptu _vacation_ in a timely manner.

**Chuck:** *determined* _Not_ goin’ to Burbank.

**Casey:** Fine. But if you're caught anywhere in the Eastern Hemisphere without orders, Beckman is gonna have your ass for an all-you-can-eat buffet. What's left of it, anyways.

**Chuck:** *laughs tipsily* Ow, that hurt.

**Casey:** *as he lays some clothes out some across the back of the couch* Go take a real shower, and then we'll see if we can get you some non-fermented-liquid food in your stomach. I brought saltines.

**Chuck:** You think of everything.

**Casey:** Obviously not, or I wouldn't be _here_ havin' to do this.

__Chuck frowns sulkily and heads to the shower. While he’s in there, Casey looks around for any obvious type of cache or somewhere else Chuck might've hidden any incriminating evidence, like his and Sarah's false documentation._ _

__After finishing his scalding hot shower, Chuck then shuffles back out, a rough towel wrapped around his waist._ _

**Casey:** *holding up the waterproof, Faraday-cage and lead-lined bag that holds said documentation* Under the couch cushion? _ __Really,_ __ Bartowski?

___Chuck flips Casey the bird, then starts getting dressed._ _ _

**Chuck:** 'case you had'n noticed, I was laying down on top of it at the time.

__Casey continues to root around, and in the process comes up with not only the expected empty bottles of various liquors, but many packs’ worth of cigarette wrappers, of varying Eastern European brands._ _

**Casey:** Are all these from _ __you___ , Bartowski? Drinas? I wouldn't even buy those to light fuses with, what the hell's the matter with you?

**Chuck:** *drawls* Everything. Clearly.

_Chuck inhales sharply, as if to offer further comment, instead triggering a particularly heinous-sounding cough._

**Casey:** *frowning* How long has that been goin' on?

**Chuck:**  *in between some lighter coughs, hoarse* What?

**Casey:**  The car backfiring in the alley. Your death rattle, Bartowski, what did you think I was talkin' about?

**Chuck:**  *shrugs listlessly* Dunno. Few days.

**Casey:** *starts to give him crap, thinks better of it* Then we're stopping off in Heidelberg on the way back. I got an old buddy who can take a look at you, no questions asked, make sure you didn’t and don't do yourself any permanent damage.

**Chuck:** *nods, swallows* Thanks, Casey.

**Casey:** Saltines are in the duffle on the table. I'm stepping out for a few minutes, gotta make some calls. Don't go anywhere.

_Chuck nods and goes to get the saltines._

**Casey:** *sticks head back in door* And there’re several liters of clean water in my pack.

**Chuck:** *exhausted* Yeah.

_Chuck spends the next few minutes puttering around the cramped unit, munching half-heartedly at a few saltines, and sipping on the water Casey brought, taking breaks when either starts to hurt his stomach._

**Casey:** *on the phone* Should be back in the states within 48 --

___Chuck lets out another series of wretched, hacking coughs, nearly doubling over._ _ _

__**Casey:** __ \-- Make that _72_ hours.

___After Chuck straightens up and has some more water, he begins to look merely forlorn rather than someone who’s about to be seriously ill._ _ _

**Casey:**  *still on phone* He'll be fine. Just needs to get his head out of his ass. *after a beat* Yeah. I’ll tell him.

___Casey hangs up the phone, then walks back over to Chuck, who still seems out of it, and takes the large duffle from him._ _ _

**Casey:** If ya haven’t got anything else stashed away that shouldn’t get left behind, your chariot awaits.

___Chuck shakes his head slowly._ _ _

**Chuck:** *quiet, hoarse* No, I don't need _anything_ from here. *scarcely audible* Thanks for comin' for me, Casey.

___Casey gives Chuck a quick nod and “yeah, yeah” grunt as the two men leave the grey, depressing apartment without looking back._ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Pics from Zachary Levi Fan and Fanpop.


End file.
